


synergy

by aestheticisms (R_Vienna)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Persona 3
Genre: F/F, F/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Vienna/pseuds/aestheticisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(persona 3/fire emblem: awakening crossover.) </p><p>When did she stop responding to her own name? </p><p>(An issue of angels and the self-sacrificing, martyr sort. They're the absolute worst.) </p><p>Reincarnation AU, Emmeryn-->Minako, for Aqsa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	synergy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toska/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the apothecary's son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384810) by [swallows (toska)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toska/pseuds/swallows). 



**synergy.**

.

.

.

we were born to be together

[torn apart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLrtEyisDMU)

you stepped with a heavy tread,

and left your mark

your mark on me

the space you used to fill it’s now this great black hole

you’re out of sight but not out of my mind

.

.

.

She would wake up with broken skin and bloody hands and walk quietly, the resident spectre for a three story house, until she arrived at entrance of the master bedroom. There, she would have to calmly explain to her foster mother that she was in need of medical attention, and the cutest bandaid they had. The woman would pale immediately and promise her the finest doctor in Iwatodai, _just_ , _wait in the kitchen and run your hand over water, don’t get anything on the sofa_. There wasn’t anything left to do after that, so Minako, she’d do as she was told and blink back the tears threatening to make a cameo appearance, her red red red eyes glassy and wide, she’d bite her lip and make sure her hand was clean clean clean. Her foster mother comes back, and she wraps Minako’s hand with white bandages. _There there, there there_ , she says into her brown hair, and plants a kiss on her head.

The ambulance comes for her, and the doctors all agree that she needs therapy.

.

.

.

Her childhood wasn’t something Minako really liked to think about, she couldn’t really remember anything between the ages six and twelve, nothing of importance, she grew up with kindness and with comfort but never with the love she was deprived of. She swings her legs back and forth and taps polished fingernails against the stainless steel, then picks up the vanilla milkshake, already melting away, summer was a _doozy_ in the States. Doozy. She likes the word. Her roommate taught it to her, she had a thick southern accent, and it was difficult picking up all the slang, but she took it in stride. California was a nice place, Minako thinks, she wouldn’t mind coming back when she was older. The sun felt nice on her skin, and the breeze was merciful, the air was dry. Another sip of her milkshake, she sucks on the red straw, chews on the plastic when she’s done. The vinyl is dirty, the diner is kind of a dump, but she’s learned to love it dearly, because they make the best food.

“You should be getting ready to leave.”

Her sponsor says, in a quiet monotone. Minako blinks, and nods, of _course_ , of _course_. Her sponsor was a nice man, he reminded her of someone. Someone she hadn’t quite met, not yet, not yet. Maybe someone from a past life? That would be silly, the thought is fleeting and it comes and it goes. Her sponsor is a large man, with an intimidating presence, but with a gentle smile, reserved just for her. It made something in her sing, and Minako offered her small hand to this hulking mess of a man. He takes it, and leads her out.

“You’re thirteen, shouldn’t you grow out of needing a hand to hold?”

Minako shakes her head, and the words slip out her chapped pink lips.

“That’s no way to speak to your Grace.”

.

.

.

The flight back to Japan is long and uncomfortable but Minako makes the best of it, she makes conversation with the ladies across the aisle, and the kids, oh they absolutely love her. She spins stories out of dragon fire and a princess’s wish, about war and about mad kings and beautiful lords and their ever loyal tacticians. The story is old, she’s told it to several audiences, but this one, she tells them, was her best account yet. The hum of the atmosphere brings a crowd to its knees as she recounts the valiant struggle to save an angel made exalt.

“She had hair the color of gold, and a voice that shook the people, she wanted nothing but the best for her haildom, Emmeryn, she wanted a peace that would last for eternity!”

A girl with a bright gaze, she tilts her head to the side. “Emmeryn?”

Minako blinks, and presses her hand to her lips. She’s never heard the name before. The moment passes, the moment is fleeting, transient. Another rearrangement of expressions, Minako giggles.

“Emmeryn, right! that was the Exalt’s name. She was a very kind woman.”

Another boy pipes up.

“How does the story end?”

Impatient, impatient, Minako chastises him with a boop to the nose. Patience, patience!

“I’m not sure yet,” Minako says, cheekily. Her smile is infectious, and suddenly everyone is begging for an encore performance, _come_ on, _come_ on, tell us more. Her english is subpar and her accent is thick, but people, oh the people love her, yes they do. Minako tucks a strand of dark brown hair, and well, she contemplates, well, maybe we can continue a little bit more, and then she sticks out her tongue.

The kids break out into peals of laughter, and their mothers hush them, and give Minako pointed looks, but no one can stay upset for too long. The flight is long, the flight is oh so terribly long, so they let Minako weave her magic, and she continues on.

“Emmeryn had two siblings, they were both younger than she was. A boy named Chrom, and a girl named Lissa…”

.

.

.

The first couple years after her return to Japan were a little weird. She goes to a nondescript junior high, graduates with top marks, and takes an entrance exam to get into the most prestigious school in the precinct. The Kirijo group, her counselor says, has an eye on her. They expect great things from you, so keep up the great work!

Minako Arisato, she’s all smiles and crossed legs at the knee, when she takes the picture for her school identification card. She takes the train back to the hotel she was staying at. The bellhop greets her with a cheerful wave, and whispers that he was just, terribly sad to see her go, and that the other quasi-permanent residents were too, that she was just, such a blessing in their lives.

“Thank you, very much.”

Her room is kept tidy and neat, her school uniform is already iron-pressed and tucked away into her suitcase. There’s a book next to her bed, on the little oak dresser with a small lamp, and she hasn’t opened it once since her arrival. Maybe tonight was the night.

Minako slips off her shoes and crosses the distance, until she is on her bed with her feet tucked underneath her and the book is open on her lap. She flips pages until she’s back at page one, and she fishes for a pen out of the drawers. Page one, there’s a date there, and the numbers are small and cramped, an unpracticed hand making note of things to come.

Emmeryn was only nine years old when a bloody throne was pushed into her soft and dainty hands. She was nine years old, with a Halidom? a Kingdom? An entity who wanted her head on a pike, and her siblings on the streets, their blood staining cobblestone streets the color of hate. The pages after detail her schooling in the art of ruling and healing, her magic touch and graceful poise and her bell-like laugh and her courteous smile and--

 _God_ , Minako couldn’t _stand_ her. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect in name and in appearance and it made her head spin and her head jolt. She rubs her temples and keeps flipping the pages until she gets to today’s date, it’s a meticulous schedule of events filled to the brim with names she doesn’t recognize, or know how to pronounce. Tea with Cherche. A stroll with Phila. Meet with Libra. Find Frederick. Frederick was a constant, always printed with an elegant script, the handwriting evolves from chickenscratch to what was expected in wedding announcements. Flourishes, everywhere.

Perfect. From the crossed Ts and dotted Is, she could barely _read_ this. It was all too much, Minako closes the book, throws it across the room, and prepares herself for bed. Tomorrow was her first day at Gekkoukan High School, and she needs to be ready.

First impressions were the most important, first impressions were the _most important_.

She brushes her teeth and brushes her hair, and goes right to sleep.

.

.

.

Her train is delayed.

That should’ve been the first sign, to go back to her room, try again tomorrow, but no, oh no, Minako Arisato does _not_ give up, not on anyone, not on anything, and most especially a _train_. A train wasn’t going to be the end of the world. So she clutches the handle of her suitcase with a new found resolve, and stands up tall, pushes herself forward towards the platform. She waits for a good half hour, propped up against her stuff, before the train finally screeches into the station. She takes her bags and rolls them through the open door, finds a booth seat, and stuffs her biggest suitcase above in the carrying compartment. Minako tries not to sigh, but the contempt bubbles out of her throat, she burrows into her sweater and waits for the whistle to blow.

The conductor is apologetic when his voice cracks over the intercom, and Minako, she presses a hand against the cold window and watches the world fade away into a blur of synthetic blue and skyscraper gray, maybe then she can close her eyes and just…

Fall asleep.

* * *

 

In her dreams, she sees a wide open plain, and feels twenty thousand eyes boring holes into her skin. She hears a girl scream, scream out her name, over and over again, the wind carries her message and presents it at her feet. A step forward, would mean certain demise. A step back, an arrow through her heart.

She thinks about how would it feel if she could fly. Soar above the masses, and be one with the sky.

* * *

 

The train jolts her awake, and she smacks her forehead against the seat in front of her. The brakes are loud, and they’re ringing in her ears, sparks fly in her peripheral vision and she, she needs to calm down, calm down, calm down, she puts her hands on her head, hoping that would make the world stop spinning.

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience…”

The conductor does his spiel, and four hours and twenty minutes later, Minako is on Iwatodai soil, her dorm looming in the distance under a bright moon. This is fine. The coffins? Those are just. Spectacular. Definitely fine. She pulls her sweater closer, keeps any and all body heat all to herself, and takes the first few tentative steps.

A green sky reaches down to greet her.

.

.

.

Yukari Takeba reminds her of somebody.

Minako can’t quite put a finger on it, but the impression is strong in the back of her mind. They gossip over boys and they pull each other’s hair when one of them wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, and they protect each other, fiercely. Yukari is loud and dramatic, but she’s got the best taste in style, and always keeps Minako guessing.

“Be mean, be loud, be whatever you want.” Yukari says, on the school roof one summer day. “Don’t let circumstances mold you.” The brunette proceeds to flick her hair back, and give Minako a bright smile, and a thumbs up.

“So, how cool did I just sound? Pretty killer, right?”

Minako rolls her eyes, because for Yukari takeba to give her that advice, it seems so terribly out of character, so terribly hypocritical. The girls wait by the vending machine for two CieloMist to fall out of their metal prison.

They toast to a better school year, and to a better life, their drinks slosh, and they scurry back to their classroom, Junpei’s waiting for them by Minako’s desk, hands on his hips, expression faux-serious, but by the time Minako gets to him, he’s already grinning.

“Ay, Yuka-tan, and Mina-tan, where were you guys at?”

“Somewhere exciting, _S_ _tupei_ , which is why we didn’t invite you!”

Junpei and Yukari squabble, and Minako taps her chin with a polished index finger. When junpei waves his hand in front of her face, she doesn’t react, and Yukari snips, _see,_ look what you’ve done now, and gently pokes the girl’s shoulder. Minako blinks, and laughs sheepishly.

“Sorry, got lost in my train of thought.”

“That’s unlike you, Mina-tan. What’s up? Something on your mind?”

Minako shakes her head, and shrugs off her jacket, drapes it on the back of her chair. She tightens her ponytail and raises her shoulders a little bit.

“No, nothing’s up. Kind of worried about this test.” She furrows her brow, and Yukari lets out an exasperated sigh, and Junpei puts his hand up for a high five.

“ _Awwww_ yeah, let’s fail together!”

“What am I supposed to do with you two?”

Minako and Junpei snicker, and Yukari takes her seat behind them.

Yukari Takeba reminds her of somebody, but, she guesses it’s not terribly important figuring out who. Junpei Iori, however, he was one of a kind. He flicks sloppily folded paper cranes onto her desk whenever Toriumi-sensei wasn’t looking. When one of the cranes lands on her lap, he apologizes, and the kid next to him, the little snitch, with his high pitched groan, whines a  _Toriumi-senseeeeeei_.

Their composition teacher sighs, and that’s how Junpei and Minako get their cleaning duties bumped up a month earlier.

Yukari tells them she’ll see them after archery practice, and then they could all walk back home together. Minako thumbs up the suggestion, and Junpei, stupid and lovely Junpei, and puts a foot on a chair, like a hero from one of his favorite childhood mangas.

“Junpei Iori, knight of the roses…”

Minako doesn’t let him finish, she throws a sponge at him and tells him to stop monologuing.

Yes, Junpei was one of a kind, she would _definitely_ remember someone as lively as him. There wasn’t anyone who could match his excitement, his goofy grins and self-produced background music. They chat over broom fights and end up leaving the classroom in a worse state by the time the clock strikes five. When Yukari comes to fetch them, they drag her into their duo of danger, and leave the place spotless.

“See, when we’re a team, there isn’t anything we can’t do!” Junpei wants to do a cool chant, or a team high five, but Yukari isn’t having any of that, and Minako leaves him hanging and instead opts to flick his forehead.

“We could’ve finished an hour ago if you hadn’t decided to declare a water war!”

Junpei wraps his arm around her shoulders, and then proceeds to do the same with Yukari, until they were the second year squad.

They head back home.

.

.

.

Sometimes she wakes up with the intention of informing her younger siblings that the day was imminent and that they needed to prepare for lessons, she'd sigh and snip at empty hallways and urge them to meet her in the main foyer, that court waited for no one, even if they were royalty.  
  
Then she remembers she is an only child. And that she was currently living in the Iwatodai dorms. There was no situation or circumstance in which she would be allowed to take the big sister role, not after everything, especially not now.

Minako clenches her fists until her knuckles are bone white, and she stares and stares at the mirror in front of her, dark brown curls fall flat against her cheeks. Brown. Dark brown. She has to keep saying the words so that, maybe then, she’ll mean them and maybe then she’ll stop seeing blonde when she closed her eyes.

There’s a knock, two knocks, and then the frantic “Arisato?” that tends to follow.

“Gimme a sec!”

She should really, really hurry. If Akihiko Sanada was agitated, or worried, he wouldn’t think twice before knocking down that door. Minako wrings her hands, pulls her hair into its signature ponytail, pats down her skirt, and practices smiling. The reflection in the mirror is a gross mockery of what her smile should be, and she grimaces. Okay. Try again. Try again. Smile better. Okay. Perfect, she pulls and prods at her face until it is _perfect_.

She turns to the door, and opens it, Akihiko is breathing heavily and he’s got a flush in his cheeks, he’s got a coat in his hands, and a muffler half wrapped around his face, half-not, and the image is so comical, so _ridiculous_ , Minako breaks into a fit of giggles. Akihiko stands upright, and scratches the back of his silver head, suddenly very self-aware. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and then, takes the scarf off and presents it to her.

"I heard, you were going out today, and it’s kind of cold, and, you should take this.” It falls inelegantly onto her head, and then to the floor.

“Thanks, senpai!” She grins, bending down to pick it up, he scrambles down after her, because it was his mistake, and they knock heads with a loud _OUCH_. Minako falls back, and Akihiko grabs her arm, jerks her back up, but it’s a godawful mess and they’re both on the floor, laughing and crying and holding their respective heads.

“God, I’m sorry, ghh, are you okay?”

Minako nods slowly, and the scarf, it lands on her lap. Akihiko takes it and carefully, wraps it around her neck, his hands are shaking so badly, and she wants to tell him that it’s fine, he doesn’t have to force himself, but she can also see the way he lingers, they’re closer than they’ve dared to be all month, and he’s red all over again. Minako puts a hand on his cheek, and she swears, he melts.

“I’m fine, Frederick.”

Akihiko blinks.

“Who’s Frederick?”

.

.

.

Spring disappears into the atmosphere.

She goes on an outing with Akihiko and she ends up with his lips pressed against her hands, they’re wrapped and he undoes the binding carefully with his awkward fingers, because that’s Akihiko, always overdoing every single thing, and when he looks into her eyes, she can’t see red and white and silver, she’s shielding her gaze from the reflection of blue and gray armor, and it’s, kind of awful and terrifying because when he holds her close and tells her that she reminds him of a dead sister, she’s trying not to tell him that he reminds her of a dead lover.

 _Dead_ was a little debatable, Minako chews on her lower lip when she turns her room inside out looking for the stupid book.

“Lookin’ for something?”

“Fucking sh--” She stops her curse, because she is supposed to be the picture of piety and kindness, but god, Pharos sits at the foot of her bed, with the little brown book. Leatherbound, moleskin. Something ancient. He’s flipping through the pages, until he gets to the most recent entry.

“Frederick and I strolled through the gardens, he’s nervous about something, and refuses to discuss his current emotional state. I am afraid for him, he’s still training, but he’s so serious...so so serious, my knight--”

“That’s not yours.” Minako hisses.

“Is it yours, then?” Pharos grins.

She takes the journal and looks at the page he was reading off of.

The date matches with today’s. She shakes it off as coincidence, and that alone. Pharos smirks and disappears into the moonlight, and the room shakes, and Minako, she swallows down the _not again_ that threatens to crawl out her throat, with bile and ire, she throws the book back on her bed and looks for her naginata. Elegance and poise. _Elegance_ and _poise_. Junpei’s at her door, "C’mon Mina-tan, we gotta go!"

Yukari’s on his heels, and she’s shaking.

“We found the next Shadow,” she starts, and catches her breath before continuing. “And it’s, at...well, it’s better if  you just hurry up.”

So they do.

The summer haze is thick and relentless, and feels disgusting against her skin. It’s suffocating. Mitsuru Kirijo, she takes this all in stride, she’s already waiting at the entrance of their destination, the seediest love hotel in the red light district, now, Minako knows why Yukari couldn’t tell her where they were going. She probably got the words stuck in her throat.

“Arisato!” She says, cool, calm, and collected. Minako rushes to the frontlines, and gives their leader a grin, she twirls her weapon, elegance and poise, remember that always, and Junpei comes in behind her. Yukari’s clutching her bow, and Akihiko brings up the rearguard. Fuuka Yamagishi, she’s pulling at her shirt sleeves, nervous gaze flitting about, obviously unsettled by their current scene.

“Senpai. What’s up?”

Mitsuru purses her lips, and flicks her red bangs back. Minako’s seen that before, and realizes, shortly after, when they’re in the pink and purple lace hell, that Yukari does the same exact thing.

She’s been assigned the role of field leader, of _course_ , of _course_ , and she brings Akihiko and Yukari along, because they’ve been doing really well lately. Junpei pouts, and Mitsuru isn’t standing by under any circumstances, because Minako, she sees how much she’s missed the blood rush, the adrenaline.

Even if she won’t admit it.

Fuuka’s glad for Junpei's company, if anything.

“This place is a nightmare…” Yukari whispers, keeping an arrow nocked. The color palette is searing, everyone’s eyes hurt, the godawful ghostly giggling and tell tale thumps, oh, _god_ this entire thing was a hormone addled disaster and Minako, she wasn’t having any of this. She wipes her brow and presses forward, until they come across an ornate door. The air is thick with the smell of cheap perfume and formaldehyde, and it’s, honestly, the worst night she’s had in a very, very long time.

It only gets worse, when they kick down that door.

The Hierophant is unkind, but, Mitsuru leads the charge, unsheathing her rapier, and screaming for Penthesilea.

The battle is reckless, and stupid, and awful, Fuuka berates them with her favorite high pitched lilt, and even Junpei’s wondering, what the _hell_ was going on there.

(Their leader summons Parvati, and the battle ends with snow.)

Fuuka finally gives them good news, when they stumble out of the room, and into the hallway. The shadow was gone, _good_ job, good _work_ , they’ll have to debrief as soon as they get out, but, yaaaaaaay--wait, _what_.

“...Huh? I still sense a Shadow in that room! It’s not the same one you defeated!”

A collective shudder.

“But… where is it hiding?”

An ominous mirror makes a guest appearance, and Mitsuru lets out an exasperated sigh, because, Akihiko’s already sizing up the thing, pulling his arm back, ready to strike.

It’s a shame, that Minako Arisato likes breaking things, too. Her naginata makes a smooth arc, and the crystal shatters.

* * *

 

Emmeryn crosses her legs at the knee, and watches Frederick kneel, and kiss her foot. He works his way up, pulls a stocking down to her ankle, and kisses scabs and freckles all the same, until he’s at her lap, chin resting on her knee, eyes locked. Emmeryn, beautiful Emmeryn, the exalt, the angel, the woman, Emmeryn, she puts a hand on his cheek, and traces the scars. Her blonde hair tumbles over her chest, acts as a veil, when she leans down and kisses his lips, kisses his broken nose and furrowed brow and beautiful brown head of hair.  When Frederick kisses her back, she chokes back the glee, because this is her knight, her lover, he’s pledged to lay down his life at her feet, when all she implores is his existence in between her bed sheets. She pulls and he complies, when she’s sprawled out on her bed, and he’s hovering over her, with the gentlest expression she’s ever seen on a man, dead or alive. His kisses are sweeter than victory, kinder than catharsis.

“Will you say it?”

“Is that an order, your Grace?”

Emmeryn sighs into his lips, and whispers, _yes_ , yes it is.

“I love you.” 

* * *

When she comes to, Akihiko Sanada, _the Akihiko Sanada she’s only dreamt of_ , is standing in a towel telling her the shower was ready for her.

Minako wipes the lipstick from her face, and sets her jaw. Blink once, blink twice, but never lose focus.

She’s gone mad, she’s gone absolutely mad.

Akihiko tells her something, and she hears it in a baritone that does not belong to him. She presses a hand to her head, and sees blonde in her peripheral vision. He is still talking.

“Minako?”

“ _It’s an enemy trap_!”

Fuuka's lilt makes her flinch. The boy blinks.

Akihiko wouldn’t refer to her by her first name.

* * *

 The lady exalt wakes up and finds that her bed is empty, and she is still dressed in her silks.

* * *

 .

.

.

Minako doesn't like violence. That's the only truth she's been able to keep tucked into the folds of a black school jacket when she pulls her fist back and watches a girl fall back, cheek already forming a sickly purple blue bruise. The girl hisses and scrambles to her feet before launching herself at the pony tailed girl, Minako easily sidesteps her half hearted attacks and leaves her yelping, forcing back tears, on the dirty hallway tile.

Saori Hasegawa stares and stares, dark eyes wide and glistening, she takes a step forward and Minako wipes the blood from her lips. Minako, she gives Saori her best smile, blood dribbles from her teeth, and it falls to the floor in droplets. It wouldn’t even matter, by the end of the scuffle. Most of the blood’s already on her wrapped fists. The bully, she hisses, and scrambles to her feet, running off in the opposite direction, wailing about a _godawful_ second year.

Minako rolls her shoulders back, and Saori rushes towards her, already assessing the damage, already blaming herself.

“What are friends for?”

“What if you got _hurt_? Over a piece of worthless trash like me?”

Minako recoils, and shakes her head furiously.

“You’re my friend, and friends,” she wraps the older girl into a hug, and squeezes tight. “Stick together. They protect each other.”

Saori starts to cry. Minako pats her back, and rubs circles into the fabric of her jacket, anything to help. Anything to help. Minako wipes the tears away and takes her out for takoyaki, and Saori, she keeps the words of encouragement on her phone, because if one person believed in her, believed in her own strength and determination, then, what could others do to break her down?

Minako gives Saori a voice, and Saori, she will use it to protect the girl who knocked teeth out for her. She’s not a girl locked in an ivory tower, she’s not a mage behind stuffy library shelves and stacks, she’s not a cleric in the frontlines, healing others, no Saori’s never been good at that, even though she’s become the faculty office’s pride and joy, she’s never liked it at all. Helplessness, the feeling of isolation, ostracization, that’s not something she’s liked at all.

Saori, she can be a knight for her warrior-princess. She’ll get stronger. She’ll get better. She’ll learn how to fly.

* * *

Emmeryn and Phila, they meet in a similar way. Everyone knows the story, filled with heartache, with loyalty, littered with cause and effect. They're the self-sacrificing, martyr sort. They're the absolute worst. 

“Your Grace, pardon my phrasing, but, well--your knights. You’ve got quite the collection.”

“I do.”

“Do you ever fear for them? For their safety?”

“I fear for all my people, and pray for their continued health and peaceful living.”

“But…”

“Libra?”

The man, he tucks a strand of honey behind his ear, and smiles placidly.

“Nevermind, it’s not fitting for a man of my station. My apologies, again.”

Emmeryn mirrors the same fake smile, and presses a delicate hand against the priest’s shoulder.

"Libra, may I ask you something?”

“Anything, your Grace.”

“Do you ever feel, like you are sharing the space inside your skull?”

He smiles again. His smile is unkind.

“More than you would know.”

* * *

.

.

.

Shinjiro Aragaki calls her by her last name, but, when he does it, it’s a promise to keep. It’s a challenge. She likes that. She likes that a lot. Arisato, he’ll say in his stupid gruff voice, hefting an axe over his shoulder. _Arisato_ , he’ll mumble, embarrassed after being caught sneaking food into Koromaru’s expectant mouth. Shinjiro Aragaki is beautiful the way Molotov cocktails are: not at fucking all.

But god, he’s got a hot touch, and a terrible smirk, and she thinks, she wouldn’t mind that kind of person at her bed side. He swings an axe like second nature, like he was born with the piece of iron forged against his skin, like he’s been felling enemies left and right, ever since his god forsaken birth, and the entire team’s seen the way he looks at her, and Minako, she wouldn’t mind another devoted follower, not when they’ve got a soft spot and a soft heart, and she _eats_ hearts like his--

When Minako wakes up next to him, she chokes back a sob, because this is wrong, this is all wrong, this is all all all wrong. Everything happening, it’s happening out of turn, out of script, there needs to be a bridge somewhere, and she’s burned every single one.

When he shifts to his side and presses his lips against her temple, and presses a hand against her cheek, he asks her what’s wrong, what’s wrong Minako? His hair is dark gray, brown-green _, it’s blonde, it’s black_ , she can’t see him anymore, he’s become a culmination of faces and people she’s never seen before and, Shinjiro Aragaki, he kisses her tears and her cheeks and her lips, and she feels like she’s going to puke.

How can she tell him that everything she’s ever known was spilling out through the cracks in her skull, my _god_.

It wasn’t supposed to be him, it wasn’t supposed to be him, she wants to say.

“You remind me of a man, who fought demons and made it back.” She says, instead.

Her prediction is dirt and ash and smoke tendrils, when a bottle of pills falls out of his jacket, and his back meets broken asphalt.

Minako screams into his chest, she screams and screams and _screams_ until her throat is raw and her chest is aching.

Akihiko Sanada joins her, he’s on his knees, and he’s screaming into an abyss that has long abandoned him.

When they carry her back to her room, Minako watches the lights fade from the sky and waits for the abyss, the abyss that continued to take everything she ever loved, and will love, she knows this to be true, away from her, she waits for the abyss to take her too.

The abyss is cruel like that.

She looks for the journal instead and finds that today, Emmeryn would lose a member of the clergy to an outside faction, and her beloved knight would lose a brother. _Frederick_ , the pages dictate, _is in mourning. And I am too detached to offer a word of sympathy to the man I love_.

The kind of love that ran away with grungy boys into an apocalyptic sunset was one Minako didn’t want to have.

Akihiko is the first one to visit, despite the bags under his eyes and the bruises on his face, he still comes over and says, _Hey, Minako_ , are you okay?

As if anything could be okay after this.

.

.

.

Emmeryn wakes up sometimes, and leaves Minako feeling like she’s been vacuumed out of existence and thrown into the confines of space, left to float endlessly in a sea of glittering stars, spread out across the sky over a bustling metropolis far, far away.

.

.

.

When did she stop responding to her own name?

.

.

.

"But how does the story end?"

She remembers the little boy from the airplane ride.

She’ll tell him, Emmeryn’s story ends, _finally_ , _finally_ ends when she turns twenty five, and turns her cheek from the man she loves, a great knight now for House Ylisse, and tells him to forget her. For his sake. For hers. She presses a hand against his cheek and he leans into her touch and says nothing. He says nothing when she wishes he was capable of begging, prostrating herself at her feet and _pleading_ with her.

She wanted someone who would tell her that she couldn’t leave. That they needed her. Not Emmeryn the angel, not Emmeryn the exalt, but Emmeryn the _human_.

She turns her attention to the people who adore her, the people who despise her, and she stands on that precipice, eyes towards the sun. An arrow through her heart with a step back, an uncertain existence with a step forward. A girl screams her name. A man, unable to do a single thing. A woman turned knight, compromised.

These are the ties that bind them together.

“Emmeryn takes those steps forward, as herself,” Minako explains to the boy in the coma. She’s shaking prettily, and Ryoji Mochizuki, he’s waiting for her at the door to the white room. He’s waiting in the wings, like always. She’s grown accustomed to her new shadow, her new paramour, her new hell. She will lose him like she lost the boy tucked in white sheets.

“And she breaks the cycle that plagued her people with that one true act of selflessness. Because Emmeryn, as beautiful and radiant as she was, was still selfish. Was still human. The angel afraid of heaven.”

“Ready to go?”

Minako shakes her head.

“Go on ahead.”

Ryoji, he laughs. Of course. Of course. He’s always one step ahead, and she’s through with dancing with death.

It’s difficult, death. It’s difficult when she’s the bride to the abyss. Wedded to the void. The beginning and the end of a cycle, where she will lose again, and again.

She thinks, Emmeryn--she had it easy. Her story ends. The voice inside her brain, it leaves, it leaves her breathless and thanking whatever deity she prayed to day in and day out for the safety of her people, it leaves her cold and empty and _grateful_.

“Are you upset?” Ryoji asks, in Nyx’s voice.

Minako Arisato does not have that privilege. Emmeryn’s echo is all she has left. The girl behind the mirror, she smiles benignly.

“Not particularly.” Minako responds. The seal of the end of the world, she tilts her head and forces herself to remain composed. “Not particularly.”

Messiahs bound to their people, messiahs killed by their own hand.

If it wasn’t so tragic, maybe she would’ve forced herself to laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE APOTHECARY'S SON BY MY LOVELY DARLING AQ.  
> HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY! I'M SORRY. ILU YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN. 
> 
> you should probably see the original ending comments.
> 
> \--> hahahahahhahah fuckkkkk thsi fic fuck tfuck fcuckk kkkkkk k uu uuuuuu ryojiiiiii u dont even mattttttttttttter i didnt even mention ken i shoulve, ended the fic 2k words agooooooooooo ughhhhhghhhhhhhhhh i didnt evne geT TO HAVE THE AKHIKO/MINAKO SCENE I ACTAULLY WANTED , WHERET HEY KISSED AND IT WAS A MIRROR ,IMAGE TO WHEN FREMMERYN NEVER HAPPENED, ANd u fCk TH YOU REINCARNATION I AHTE IT 
> 
> so, if you're still here. this was inspired by a conversation aq and i had about a persona/feau in which reincarnation and other fun parallels were involved. this all started because she said that adachi and stahl looked similar. and i was like, well shit. you're right. and suddenly. we're here. it's amazing. i know.
> 
> this is kind of the weirdest thing i wrote last year, it's taken so long to actually get out because of the nature of the fic. it's a curveball. it's weird and bizarre and i absolutely loved the concept. so...here's to hoping i portrayed it in a cool, and rad way. oopsie. why. why am i always writing weird crossovers. thanks aq. you're the best. ily.


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